Bad Romance
by Archedes
Summary: It's Elizabeth's birthday, and Sebastian is tasked with handling the entire affair. Knowing the Phantomhive household, trouble is a definite given. Sebastian/OC


What is this? My first Kuroshitsuji fic that is also a Lady Gaga songfic? BLASPHEMY! –shot- It's very close to being PWP, and I'm pretty sure the humor is only amusing to me. Oh well. Yeah, there's an OC. I know it's against my religion (or something), but this is a gift for a friend of mine.

Um. There was supposed to be fluffy romance in here…somewhere…but… Sebastian isn't very fluffy. Seductive and manipulative and man-whorish, yes. Cute and fluffy? Not so much. I had to make an executive decision, and I chose believability over OOC-ness. Soooorry. :S Eh. It's not _too_ bad, I don't think…

**Summary: **It's Elizabeth's birthday, and Sebastian is tasked with handling the entire affair. Knowing the Phantomhive household, trouble is a definite given. Sebastian/OC

**Prompt: **Sweets and roses

**Jargon: **"Bad Romance", Kuroshitsuji, and Selina Kirkland are not mine. Suck it, copyright holders.

**Bad Romance**

By BBirthday/Archedes

"_I want your ugly, I want your disease._

_I want your everything as long as it's free._

_I want your love."_

This was perhaps the first time in over a hundred years that Sebastian Michaelis (as he was currently called) felt truly, truly annoyed. Now, it was not just some run-of-the-mill mild irritation resulting from an elaborately idiotic antic pulled by one of the other Phantomhive servants. No; _this_ was a simmering exasperation borne of a nearly impossible situation he was forced into by his slightly sadistic master. It had all started that very morning, during a routine breakfast of scones, eggs Florentine (prepared with the freshest spinach and newly-picked oregano), Earl Grey tea, lightly sweetened grapefruit wedges, and the latest edition of the Queen's Tribune.

With his blue eye trained on the newspaper, forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth, Ciel had mentioned, ever so casually: "Today is Elizabeth's birthday. She will be arriving later today, around noon. I expect you will have everything ready by then."

Sebastian had merely smiled in his usual, accommodating way. However, inside, his thoughts were not quite as nice. _This is what is to be expected of the young master_, he thought, only half-heartedly bitter. Knowing Elizabeth, she would be breaking down the polished oak door close to an hour before her supposed advent. This gave Sebastian about four and a half hours to orchestrate the necessary preparations, and then an extra thirty minutes to rectify any damage caused by that damnable triad of clumsiness and misfortune.

Thankfully, he was one hell of a butler.

Leaving Finnian, Mey-Rin, and Baldroy with the orders, "gardens aren't _meant_ to be robot-shaped", "stay away from the fine china", and "don't even think about going near that oven" (respectively), Sebastian set about sending a note to a local bakery detailing the exact cake that Elizabeth had described to Ciel (in a tone that severely discouraged that anything less than her expectations be met), as well as an assortment of pink bow-shaped "edible accessories". Perhaps he was just getting old, but Sebastian would never understand why humans no longer seemed to fancy simple words like "cookie". Foolishly, in his haste to find frilly decorations to deface the manor with, the butler entrusted the note to Pluto—after wrestling the demon dog out of his birthday suit and into something presentable.

Ciel was sitting on the back patio when Sebastian returned with the various streamers, doilies, and abominably-bright ribbons. His eye peeked over the rim of a teacup, eyeing the demon with barely-muted amusement. To his left, Mey-Rin ruined the previously-immaculate tablecloth by knocking over the antique teapot (one Sebastian was _sure_ he told her "not to touch under any circumstances or I will string you by your little toes over a cliff"), spilling Earl Grey all over herself and shattering the priceless hand-painted porcelain. Sebastian merely sighed. "S-sorry!" she sputtered, face red as she shoved her hideously-outdated glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

Vandalizing the respectable Phantomhive manor was surprisingly easy and painless, if one ignored the constant offers of assistance pled by the less-coordinated of the servants. The foyer was tee-peed with pink crepe streamers dangling from the chandeliers, and curling white ribbons were painstakingly wrapped around both of the Grand Stair's parapets and every single one of its balusters. Confetti and flower petals were strewn all over the floor (and Sebastian died a little with each handful he flung, imagining how he would have to pick it all up again in just a few short hours).

The dining table was blanketed in pink, and the walls of the room were covered in hearts and lacey fringe. The ballroom (where Elizabeth expected to waltz with her fiancé amongst beautiful arrangements of white roses while serenaded by a violin) was equally trimmed. However, the butler was pleased to behold the young master's expression upon seeing the state of his once-honorable mansion. With eye twitching and lips wavering between a scowl and a humoring grimace, Ciel allowed Sebastian to usher him upstairs to be dressed. After the boy was decked in his usual preference of dark doublet, top hat, and ornately carved cane, the butler checked his pocket-watch. Twenty minutes to pick up the cake, and another sixty to lock Pluto in a place where he wouldn't be a nuisance. Perfect.

A short ten-minute run later and everyone's favorite demon-cum-butler found himself outside of a small bakery located in downtown London, the little storefront squashed between a jewelry and a funeral home. Taking a moment to adjust his cufflinks, Sebastian took a deep, cleansing breath through his nose before pushing the door open. It would just take patience, he told himself: the next assignment Queen Victoria sent to Ciel would undoubtedly present an opportunity for Sebastian to take his revenge for this latest grief.

Upon entering, the butler's preternatural sense of smell was immediately assaulted by a medley of delicate aromas and attractive scents. Behind a glass display case were dozens upon dozens of different sweets: glazed in pink frostings and chocolate squares, caramel roses and cinnamon swirls. Cakes and muffins, croissants and jam-filled scones. A large bowl of Devonshire cream sat beside madeleines, and the perfume of the hot-out-of-the-oven linzer torte was simply intoxicating. Sebastian was stunned for a minute, the sensory overload temporarily short-circuiting his brain (which was, in itself, quite a feat). The pure artistry of the pastries rivaled his own, and a niggling spitefulness threatened to ruin the ecstasy of the mouth-watering smells.

Behind the counter, an olive-skinned girl frantically rushed back and forth, disappearing into a back room and shuffling out to the front, fretting with the arrangement of the sweets before starting her trek anew. Long ringlets of curly hair, the color of coal, swayed in her wake, and Sebastian idly wondered why she was not wearing a hairnet. Her pale blue frock was covered in white splotches of flour, matching the ones on her nose and cheeks. She didn't notice the dark-haired man until he had approached the counter, tapping the bell twice and slapping on an agreeable little smile. Her face reddened in embarrassment as she scrambled to accommodate him, startlingly blue eyes wide and sheepish. "Oh! I'm sorry!" Her voice was accented, suggesting some unknown, exotic origin. "I was just—I'm so sorry! C-can I help you, sir?"

"The Phantomhive cake," Sebastian replied patiently. "I sent you a message earlier, and I am here to pick it up."

A tinge of mortification, and confusion, began to creep into the girl's face. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, as if she had something to say that was too wickedly necessary to voice. "Sir…" she started carefully, tugging on a strand of dark hair. "We've only received your message about seven minutes ago."

"…"

He was going to kill that dog. No matter what Finnian said: Pluto was going to _die_. _DIE!_ Sebastian's expression was masterfully schooled, and he was sure almost none of his violent thoughts projected onto his face (but by the way the girl gave him an uncertain, slightly frightened look, the butler couldn't be sure). He thought he could have saved time by ordering the cake from a bakery instead of making it himself, thought he could have prevented some grief and the opportunity for Baldroy-mischief. But he hadn't factored in the idiocy of that mongrel. _This_ was why Sebastian was a cat person.

"Um. Mister? Are you all right?"

"…"

"_I want your drama, the touch of your hand._

_I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand._

_I want your love."_

Selina Kirkland had entered the bakery that morning with a semi-firm conviction that the day would be blessedly uneventful. She had been looking forward to a normal, calm work shift that would end with a visit from Mrs. Donovan—a sweet old lady who often came in for cookies for her grandchildren—and personal time with her diamonds. Two and a half weeks, and Selina was nearly finished with a pair of lovely earrings that she had been planning on giving to the baker's wife. However, the first event that stirred the regret in her stomach (the one that had, early that morning, begged her to stay in bed) was when a strange white-haired man burst into the bakery.

He entered on all fours, his expensive-looking tailcoat looking grimy and torn. His red doublet was smeared with a questionable substance that emitted an even more questionable odor, and in his mouth was an equally-dirty note. The man bounded up to the counter, slamming two muddy palms onto the polished surface. "H-hey!" Selina had protested, staring disbelievingly at the surface she had just finished cleaning.

He dropped the note and barked in response, greeting her with a daffy look that could be likened to a dog's grin, complete with lolling tongue and drool-covered chin. She reached uncertainly for the paper, keeping a wary eye on the wild man. He merely yipped, sliding back onto the floor to scratch behind his ear with a foot, shoe and all. The note requested an ornately-trimmed cake for the Earl Phantomhive's fiancée, due to be picked up in about ten minutes. Selina was floored for a minute. "Um, excuse me… Sir?"

The strange man ignored her, instead occupying himself with burying his face in his nether-regions. Selina felt an embarrassed blush burn her cheeks. She was about to ask again, when he suddenly lifted his head with an alarmed expression. He actually _whined_, a note of panic in his voice, before turning tail (literally?) and fleeing from the bakery. Selina stared after him, a little dumbfounded. "O-kay then…"

Placing the note aside, she set about tending to her other orders. It was all very strange, and there was no way Selina could create such a cake in that short amount of time, so she simply pegged it as a prank and forgot all about it. However, as fate would have it, yet another interesting individual wandered into the bakery. He was a rather dashing man, tall with dark hair and rich red eyes. Selina was thoroughly flustered. It was all downhill from there.

About a half hour later, Selina found herself in the back with the ovens, baking a ridiculously girly cake with the notorious Phantomhive butler. When he had proposed the idea of working together to finish the cake, Selina had been filled with a girlish glee at getting personal time with such a handsome man. But she now, all she felt was mild irritation. Sebastian (as he had introduced himself) was busy beating batter, wearing _her_ apron and using _her_ whisk. She was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, fingers tapping on the underside of the stool she was perched upon. "Um. Mr. Sebastian… If anyone finds out I let you back here…" she trailed off. He didn't respond, leaving her to stare unabashedly at his back.

She tried again. "Mr. Sebastian—"

Sebastian turned around, fixing her with a breath-taking smile. He cocked his head to the side. "Miss Selina, I really appreciate you allowing me to use your bakery. You see, it's very important that I get this cake on time."

"But if you could just give me an hour or two…" 

"I'm afraid that's out of the question."

"But—" Her world was suddenly confined to two glistening red eyes. Sebastian was leaning toward her, alarmingly close, and she wondered how he had managed to cross the room without her noticing. Their noses were brushing, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. His lips tugged into a smirk that sent chills down her spine, something mischievous and cruel in the way that he was staring at her. She tried to pull away, but her back hit the wall. Cornered. It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

"I'm afraid that I cannot bake properly with your constant…_interruptions_." The last word was quiet, breathed. So low that Selina, for a minute, thought she had imagined him saying it. She shivered despite herself. It reminded her of the day when she had left Sierra Leone, and how terrifying the British had been when they had occupied her village. This was the same. Sebastian had complete control. The harsh lines of his face were cast in sharp detail—so sharp that she half-thought she would cut herself just by looking—and his eyes seemed to glow in the morning light that flooded through the small window by the iron oven. And the _hunger_. There was a rough glint in those red depths that Selina could only identify as a ravenous longing for something he had waited far too long for. She repressed another shudder.

"S-sorry." Damn her timidity! Selina winced inwardly. He merely squinted slyly at her before pulling away, deliberately slow, and turning back to the counter. She exhaled heavily, placing one clammy hand over a rapidly-beating heart that threatened to jump right out of her chest. There was something off about this man; something Selina couldn't quite put her finger on. Had it been anyone else, she would have firmly told him to leave before she called Scotland Yard. But for some reason, just the thought of doing anything contrary to Sebastian's goal seemed unthinkable. Evil, even.

Selina jumped a little when Sebastian suddenly froze, quickly taking a pocket-watch out of his doublet. He glared at the face before snapping it shut. The cake was already in the oven, but he did not seem relieved. "Is something wrong?" she couldn't help but ask. Sebastian seemed troubled, and against her better judgment, instincts, and slight fear: Selina could not stop herself from helping someone in need.

"_She_ will be arriving soon. I need to get back." He whipped around to face her, fixing her with a hard, appraising look. She tried not to flinch. "Could I interest you in delivering my order to the Phantomhive manor as soon as it is finished? You will be compensated quite nicely for your trouble."

"Sure," Selina replied uncertainly, not really sure who "she" was, or why Sebastian seemed to grimace as he said it.

He nodded. "I'm counting on you, Selina."

As he left, Selina could only stand there and wonder why, exactly, her heart had skipped a beat when he said her name, and how he had known it in the first place.

"_I want your horror, I want your design._

'_Cause you're a criminal as long as you're mine._

_I want your love."_

The manor was in a complete state of chaos by the time Sebastian returned. The servants were literally doing nothing productive, running about and fretting over Lady Elizabeth's arrival. Pluto was out back, in demon form and doing some lovely landscaping on the trees with his fire-breath, with Finnian chasing him around and shouting, over and over: "No, Plu-Plu! Sebastian will be so mad!"

Ciel, the epitome of serenity amidst the pandemonium, was sitting in his study, safely locked away from the insanity. Because he would be damned if any of those morons ruined the one place that could have genuinely earned the title of his sanctuary. He sighed as the entire foundation of the manor gave itself to violent shudders, a piece of plaster clattering down onto his desk and narrowly missing his hand. And people wondered why he didn't like to celebrate his _own_ birthdays.

Sebastian found Baldroy hiding in the wine cellar, having barricaded himself in with a hefty stock of explosives and firearms. From the stench of alcohol and grapes that drifted up from the crack between the door and the floor, Sebastian could tell that the cook was heavily inebriated. "What are you doing?" the butler asked calmly, rapping his knuckles on the door in three smart knocks.

"S' th' damn dog. _Hic_." Baldroy's slurred, garbled voice drifted through the wood. Judging from the faintness, he was probably slumped against the far wall, cradling a bottle of expensive imported Italian wine in one arm and a loaded musket in the other. Sebastian did not even want to begin to ponder why the man had felt it necessary to lock himself in the basement. It wasn't as if Pluto's destructive insanity was anything _new_.

"And why are you in there?"

"…I don' look good inna bonnet, Sebas'in."

Sebastian had to concede him that. While it was a simple matter to forget that Ciel was a mere boy of twelve, it was not quite the same with Elizabeth, who still found it the highest form of entertainment to play dress-up with the servants. The butler left the cook with a request not to burn the manor down, and returned upstairs.

In the courtyard, Finnian had enlisted the help of Mey-Rin, and together they had managed to subdue a very-naked Pluto. Upon spotting Sebastian, the devil dog leapt to his feet and accosted him before he could even shut the cellar doors. Mey-Rin blushed shamelessly, adjusting her glasses. Her shameless stare only served to irritate Sebastian. Finnian, bearing a sheepish expression, managed to pry Pluto off. "Sorry, Sebastian!"

"Put him in a place where Lady Elizabeth won't find him."

"Yes sir!"

Sebastian turned to Mey-Rin, who visibly deflated before his eyes. She flailed her arms in embarrassment, sputtering some nonsense about the curtains in the ballroom and Ciel's herbal tea and how slippery the rose petals were on the polished marble floor. He was pretty sure several hundred apologies were thrown somewhere in there, but she was blubbering so much that he couldn't be sure. "Clean it up, then," Sebastian told her, more than slightly irritated. Mey-Rin gave him a salute that knocked her glasses clean off her face. He sighed.

_Meanwhile…_

Selina blanched terribly when the giant manor came into sight, the dust streaming off of the baker's old horse's hooves choking her up. It was much larger than she had thought it would be, and not for the first time, she felt intimidated beyond belief. Behind her—on the cart—sat the earl's giant cake, a three-tiered masterpiece frosted with pink and white and little edible doilies. It was covered with a thin white sheet, which was now blanketed with a fine film of dust.

A dirty young man was sitting on the front steps when the cart pulled up, his pale orange hair smudged with dirt and streaks of mud and what looked like blood dashing his cheeks. He leapt to his feet, a knowing smile creeping onto his face when he noticed Selina's dust-induced tears. "Oh! I had the same reaction when I first came here, too! It's amazing, isn't it?" he asked brightly. "I'm Finni! Are you a new servant or something?"

"…What? No." Selina coughed into a handkerchief, wiping her face in a decidedly un-ladylike fashion. "I'm delivering the cake, for—"

"That's great! Mr. Sebastian will be so happy!" Finni lurched forward, snagging the over-sized pastry with one seemingly-scrawny arm. He lifted it high above his head, grinning hugely the whole time as he made a haphazard beeline for the front door. Selina nearly gagged as her heart leapt into her throat.

"Be careful!"

The red-head whipped around—cake and all—and nearly decapitated another servant who had just exited the manor. She squeaked, ducking so quickly that it took Selina a moment to even realize she had done it. "Oops! Sorry, Mey-Rin!"

Mey-Rin, whose clothes suggested that she was a maid, pointed accusingly at him, her voice full of deceptively-authoritative bravado, "Finni! You're supposed to be hiding Plu-Plu!"

…_Plu-Plu?_ Selina smiled bewilderedly, feeling a little awkward as the boy protested. "But Plu-Plu _hates_ being alone!" Finni whined noisily, holding the cake in a way that would have sent any other person flying off-balance. Selina's heart beat painfully in her chest as she watched her precious pastry being toted around so carelessly. _Please, please, PLEASE don't drop it!_

"But Mr. Sebastian says that he will frighten Lady Elizabeth, so you have to put him away for a little while," said Mey-Rin, sounding a little sympathetic.

"I won't do it! You can't make me!"

"Finni!"

"_NOOOOOOOO!_"

"Um, excuse me?" As the conversation escaladed into an argument reminiscent of two school-children—complete with raised voices and irrational emotions—Selina decided to intervene, hoping to slink away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. "You two seem very…busy. So if I could just get my payment for the…cake—" Her voice caught on the word, her blue eyes flicking to the pink-frosted thing as she feared for its life, "—I'll be on my way."

The two servants, who had all but forgotten about the dark-haired woman, gave her slightly shocked, bemused looks. There was an awkward pause that seemed to stretch on forever, wherein the duo simply stared at her. Selina began to wonder if she said something offensive, and began to feel sweat accumulate on the back of her neck. Finni and Mey-Rin gave each other wondering glances, before the former finally said, "We're not allowed to touch any of the Young Master's money." The way he said it made Selina think that it wasn't so much because it was the _duke's_ money, but the fact that it was _money_ to begin with. She was loath to consider what had happened in the past for such a restriction to be necessary.

"Well…is there any way I could see your master?"

"Of course not!" It was Mey-Rin who answered this time, looking flustered and slightly insulted. "You'll just have to ask Mr. Sebastian about it!"

And with that, the two servants turned to go inside, with Finni nearly knocking off the top tier of the cake as he struggled to get it through the door. Selina stared after them, mouth brazenly agape. Wasn't anybody going to show her in? The interior of the manor was roomy and extravagant, even with the pink streamers and oversized hearts hanging from every possible surface. She could see herself getting hopelessly lost in its halls, only to be found days later and long-dead. She shivered.

It took Selina several minutes of steeling herself and mustering every ounce of bravery she could conjure (which wasn't much) to prepare herself for meeting that _man_ again. For some reason, just thinking about that surreal hour in the bakery made her feel exhilarated and terrified at the same time. When she finally stepped into the foyer, she was immediately intercepted by the one person she had been dreading (and hoping) to find. Sebastian was all smiles and pleasant tones, any traces of that cruel hunger having been wiped clean from his expression with a practiced hand. He seemed genuinely happy to see her, and while that should have made Selina blush and giggle like a naïve schoolgirl, it only served to reinforce her suspicions. And despite all of that mental preparation and unreasonable wariness, she _still_ couldn't resist him.

"I hope this wasn't too much trouble," Sebastian murmured conversationally as he led her through the manor, and Selina couldn't help but to entertain the notion that he really wasn't being sincere. It wasn't so much the way he said it, but the way he glanced over his shoulder and _smirked_ afterwards.

"Not at all." She tried not to let her thoughts wander to the copious amounts of orders waiting for her the second she returned.

Sebastian's smile widened, and Selina felt that familiar burning sensation as a blush warmed her cheeks. It was like that was the exact answer he had wanted from her, and he was rewarding her like a master would a faithful dog. Selina mentally chastised herself, slightly surprised that she was having all of these rude thoughts about a man she had just met, who had been nothing but polite to her—if one overlooked that frighteningly pleasurable encounter in the bakery kitchen.

He led her through a plain wooden door that was hidden in a niche in one of the manor's many hallways. Selina recognized it as the entrance to the servants' quarters, and felt only a little nervous about entering. Her fears were confirmed, however, when Sebastian guided her into a bare bedroom. It was bigger than her own room—and most of the other servants', Selina felt it was safe to assume. The only furniture was a small single bed, a desk, and a wardrobe from which emanated noises that sounded suspiciously cat-like. She tried not to dwell on it.

Sebastian walked over to the desk, leaving Selina to stand uncertainly by the door. It was then that she realized that the two of them were _alone_, _in his bedroom_; and it hit her that all of the other servants were off preparing for the party, and that they were completely isolated there. Her mouth was suddenly hot and dry, and she found it worryingly difficult to swallow, her eyes darting nervously from door to butler and back again.

Sebastian, however, did not seem to notice any of these things, as he procured a simple wooden box from one of the desk drawers. "You see, the Young Master can be quite paranoid when he sets his mind to it, and it seems to put him at rest knowing that his important financial documents are here," he explained without prompt, knowing quite intimately that Selina had most certainly _not_ been wondering about that. Her mind had been on something else entirely.

"That makes sense." She was surprised that her voice still worked, even if it _did_ crack on the last word. Her mind was reeling, unable to decide if she wanted to run far, far away…or stay exactly where she was. And then she considered taking a cold bath as soon as she got home, and suddenly knew that something was terribly wrong with her for having such illicit thoughts.

"Is something wrong, Miss Kirkland?" Sebastian asked innocently as he approached her, banknotes in hand. Selina couldn't help her impulse to back away. This seemed to amuse him where it failed to deter him. He followed her until, once again, her back hit a wall.

"A-ah…M-Mr. Sebastian, I have to—" her voice cut failed her, and she was left to swallow the rest of her sentence. He was well within her comfort zone; his chest mere inches from touching hers. She scrabbled along the wall, discovering a small sense of security when her hand brushed the door knob. It was open, but Sebastian was still very much in the way of any sort of escape. It didn't help that she was hyperaware of his every movement.

"Have to…what?" he prompted, practically purring as he inclined his head. A few strands of his dark hair ghosted against her forehead, sending a violent chill down her spine.

"The bakery…" Coherent thoughts were lost to her, now. She wasn't even sure what she had been trying to say, but all she knew was that Sebastian was very, very close to her, and that hungry look had returned. It wasn't lust, or even need. It was like staring straight into the eyes of a starving animal.

His eyes dropped to her lips, and one hand found its way to the wall. He braced himself against it, effectively boxing her in. Selina was completely still, her breath caught in her throat as he leaned closer. His eyes were mesmerizing, and for a minute, Selina could have sworn their pupils were slitted. His lips grazed—feather-light—across hers, leaving them tingling, searing.

"Yes?" Sebastian whispered, eyes locked with hers. His mouth tugged up in a cruel smirk.

"MISTER SEBAAASSSTTIIIIAAAAAAAAAN!" Finni's voice wailed as he catapulted himself into the room, tears streaming down his face and mucus dripping from his nose.

In an instant, Sebastian was gone, and Selina remembered how to breathe. Several feet away, at a distance that would be considered respectful _and then some_, the butler snapped the money box shut, turning to place it on the desktop. "What is it?" he asked calmly. Selina's heartbeat was rapid and frantic, and _thank God_ Finni wasn't looking in her direction.

The boy looked ashamed and timid, as if he was dreading a punishment. "I…dropped the cake." Finni immediately flinched, shielding his face with his hands.

Meanwhile, Selina counted to ten. Several times. She was not a particularly angry person, nor was her fuse short. But the _cake_… Sebastian, however, fixed Finni with a knowing smile. "What kind of Phantomhive butler would I be if I didn't have a spare ready?" he said coolly.

"T-this whole time…y-you had…" Selina couldn't stop the incoherent words that burst out. She was shocked. Sebastian looked at her with a mixture of bemusement and surprise, like he had forgotten she was even there.

"Ah, Miss Kirkland. Thank you very much for your services. I will now escort you to your cart."

"_I want your love, and I want your revenge._

_I want your love, and I don't wanna be friends._

"_No, I don't wanna be friends."_

Selina caught sight of two children as she followed Sebastian into the foyer. They couldn't be older than twelve or thirteen, and she wracked her brain in an attempt to remember if the late Duke Phantomhive had a son or a daughter. The girl, a small blonde thing with a happy smile and a bright voice, was viciously hugging the boy, a look of contentment capturing her features. The boy, with dark hair and a single eye, bore her patiently, if not completely without an expression of slight annoyance. "…Ah… Happy Birthday, Elizabeth," he choked out as her arms wound tighter around his neck.

Selina was ushered out the door by Sebastian before she could hear the girl's reply. The butler gave her a small bow and one last thank-you before turning on his heel and returning inside, the door slamming shut behind him. She felt slightly offended at the impersonal treatment, and then promptly wondered _why_. Clambering onto her cart, Selina pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She was about to snap the reins when she remembered the banknotes, and practically leapt off. The horse whinnied in frustration, irritated at how long he had had to stand there and thinking only of the bag of oats waiting for him at home. Selina wasn't sure why she was so eager at a chance to stay awhile more.

However, as she went to flatten her frock, her fingers bumped against something poking out from the bottom of her bodice. "How did he…" Selina was sure she would remember if someone was prodding around her dress. And yet, there they were: five banknotes, crisp but for the single crease of where they had been folded in the box. She flushed in embarrassment.

There was something off about those Phantomhive servants. Something Selina Kirkland still couldn't decide whether she abhorred or admired.

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For the love of all that is black and butlery: it's finally done! D-O-N-E~! I feel like Selina is OOC at some parts, but hey, I tried. And it's like 103 degrees right now, so I'm gonna go now and die of heatstroke somewhere. Review please? 8D


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